Unbreakable
by suneye1999
Summary: "Don't get attached," Fee keeps telling herself. But some things you just can't let go off. When she has to compete as a district nine and three quarters tribute, Fee will learn more than just how to kill other kids. Death of HP characters. Hunger Games style bloody. Romance.


**A/N: I know there is probably a thousand versions of this out there, but thus us ****_district nine and three quarters_****. It contains OC/certain characters. My lovely friend (who I shall refer to as Ginny at the moment) read this story and helped me with it. *applause* Please review!**

I stare at the ceiling. I hate today. I hate it with all my being. I could watch one of my friends walk straight up those stairs to their death. I could watch Rosie or Pete get reaped. Or it could be me.

It's quite unlikely though. We don't need tesserae. We rarely put our names in more than the times we need to. Well, Ginny does. Ginny and all her siblings do. The oldest usually tries to keep the others from entering too much, but they're so poor that that doesn't work. And they won't accept too much of what we give them.

I sigh and sit up, pulling my knees to my chest. My long dark brown hair is a mess. I reach for my wand, just to make sure it's there. It is.

Weird and unfair, that's what it is. We're witches and wizards. We shouldn't be starving or homeless or entering these stupid games. But what can we do about it? Our leaders haven't been seen since we became District 9 and 3/4. So we're practically run by the Capitol. The only good thing is that our Mayor is the best one I've ever heard of. I've heard of much public punishment in the other districts, but we never have any of those. How I know about other districts? Well, I'm familiar with the Weasley way.

"FEE!"

I jump up. It's just my mom though. She walks into the room gently. Her blonde hair is braided down her back. She is wearing a plaid blue dress and scowling at me. I must've overslept.

"Fee, are you planning on getting up?" she asks, less demanding that usual. On this day every year, she's much softer, knowing it just may be the last time she ever sees me. That's why I was allowed to oversleep.

"I'm up." I reply, swinging my legs over the bed.

"Wash up. Breakfast is downstairs. I laid out your dress." she instructs, and walks out. My mother doesn't waste words.

I groan, stretching. I have no chance of winning the games if I get reaped. I'm quick, yes, and a fast thinker. But that's pretty much it. I can't kill an ant and not feel guilty. I can't handle a weapon. I can't hide, or outrun the careers.

I throw on my pants and shirt. Then I put on my red scarf. It's not very cold, but this scarf father made me years ago makes me feel safe.

And there he is now, nibbling on a cracker, thinking hard. He doesn't have to go to the paint factory today. That's what we do here. Make paint. They couldn't find anything more stupid for us to do when we joined, so we make paint with magical properties. Any portrait painted by it will glisten and glow and - for extra money - even move. We also breed owls here. And other weird creatures, like Hippogriffs, Thestrals, and three-headed dogs. The muggles in our district normally do that.

I pick up a cracker and eat all of it in two bites. I notice Pete, like a small version of my father, with black hair and blue eyes, minus the mustache. He gives me a half-smile and goes back to chewing on his nails.

Anything. I think. Anything but him in the games. If Rosie gets chosen, at least I can volunteer for her. However, if they draw Pete's name...

I look away and find my sister, getting her blonde hair pinned up by my mother. She has blue eyes too, so does mom. I'm the only one in my household with brown hair and black eyes. I haven't even seen pictures of family members that aren't black haired or blonde. I know dark brown's not too far from jet black, but can you blame me for wondering?

"Fee, are you done?" mother asks. I nod half-heatedly. This is Pete's first reaping. He's sure to be nervous as hell. And there is nothing I can do to calm him.

"Your dress is on my bed." mom says gently, seeing my worry. It's Rosie's first reaping too, but there is no stinking way she's stepping foot into that damned arena.

"Fee." I need to stop getting lost in my thoughts. "The dress."

I drag my feet to Rosie and mine's room. I take my wand out of my pocket and place it gently on the table. Any magic outside of school and I'm arrested. But I carry the stick around anyway. Another thing that makes me feel safe.

I go to my parent's room. The dress is too cute for my taste. It's yellow with a strap around the waist. And mom's put me boots. Kind of nice actually. Black. Hers.

"Mom?" I call uncertainly, the dress not fully on yet.

"What?" she pokes her head in the door.

"Am I supposed to wear these?"

"Yes."

"But..."

"What?"

"The shoes are yours."

She pauses.

"Just in case, I want to..." her voice trails off as she searches for something to say.

"You don't have to," I say. She comes in and kisses my forehead.

"Good luck." she zips up my dress.

All I can do is nod, because I've realized, if I'm reaped, I'm dead.

I put on the boots and meet the rest of my family at the door. We walk to the front of the justice building. I sign in and look around. I see the familiar gang of redheads approaching. First there is Percy, who is most likely going to be reaped this year. He has his name in 23 times. He nods in my direction and then walks off. I see him glance sadly at a pretty girl in the line he's joining. She bites her lip and holds his hand. Ginny, who signs in after him, grins at me before walking off to the line of 14 year olds. She's one of my only friends, apart from Luna, Lavender, and the other Weasley's. Then there comes the twins. I can tell who's who when even their mother barely can. It's the pattern of their freckles. George's is jut a bit messier than Fred's. He has one freckle a bit more out of place. It's very light. Very hard to tell. They make a face at me and walk off. I'm tired of waiting. Hurry up Ron! Oh, there he comes! Nervous and worried, looking back at his parents multiple times. As soon as he sees me, his expression lights up.

"Fee!" he calls.

"Ronald!"

For a second I think he's going to hug me, then he just pats my shoulder and awkwardly stands beside me. We've always been in the same class. And now, after five years of magical training, we're quite good friends. I suspect he has feelings for Hermione Granger-

"Fee, what's up?" that's her.

"Hermione, hi."

"Feeling okay?"

"Do I look uneasy?"

"Very."

I sigh. "I'm worried my siblings will be chosen." I explain. "Or...me. I'm worried they'll pick me."

"If they do-"

"Don't!" I exclaime. "Promise me you won't volunteer."

She nods. "We made that promise the second we became friends." she reminds me. "If you get reaped, I'll come up with a strategy."

That's what I like about her. She can make me feel better with her smarts even in times like this. Where did Ron go? Oh, he's with some other Gryffindors. I notice the ceremony has started. There is a weird woman wearing pink onstage. I know her. She's Dolores Umbridge. From the three victors we have alive and not on the run, I've heard she's the worst person to have as your guide.

After a long, boring announcement from her, our Mayor walks up. Cornelius Fudge. He briefly explains the games, then says something strange.

"The headmaster of Hogwarts school has asked to say a few words to the district."

Hogwarts is where the witches and wizards study. The Muggles go to another school. Dumbledore, the headmaster, steps up. Murmur arises in the crowd. It takes a full minute to calm them down. But me, I couldn't care less what the bastard has to say. He's supposed to be super powerful, but he's the reason we're stuck here.

"I want to remind you all," Dumbledore says simply. "That happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the lights." No one speaks. What does he mean? I think he just wanted a spotlight. That's not very nice thoughts for a Hufflepuff. Why was I sorted there anyway?

"Happy Hunger Games!"

Umbridge claps. "Ladies first!" She sings. She reaches into the bowl, and instantly I know something's wrong. She reads the name on it without hesitation.

"Felicia Duncain."

In case you didn't know, that's me.


End file.
